


Seaside Heights

by vinnie2757



Series: Tales from Barton Farm [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Dating, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, its just two dumb bird babies flirting, its the worst flirting tbh, this is a quick little tumblr prompt i ported over for easier reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinnie2757/pseuds/vinnie2757
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint drags Laura on an impromptu road trip and holiday to Seaside Heights because he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seaside Heights

**Author's Note:**

> dom gave me this prompt y/day bc i was sad: because I have the beach on the brain you could write about claura going on a road trip to the beach while they were dating. everyone loves sweet road trips! so here’s the thing [ported over from tumblr]

Clint manages to wrangle a week off. His arm is in a support bandage, which Laura suspects had something to do with it.

‘Oh, hush,’ he says as he dumps a duffel bag on her coffee table. ‘I see that look.’

Lucky wriggles past his legs and helps himself to his still-hairy spot on the couch, turning once before flopping down, legs folded and chin resting nicely. Laura immediately moves to rub his ear and continues to eye Clint’s bandage.

‘You think you’re so cool,’ she sniffs, and then reaches for him, humming against his mouth. ‘A week off? And what did you plan to do in that time?’

He slides his hands into the back pockets of her shorts, tugs her close. He’s got that grin again, and cocks his head like he’s clever.

‘I figured,’ he hums, slow and drawling, ‘that we could go on a little road trip. I know you bought that dangerously cute bikini last month, and I figured now would be a good time to try it out.’

She pretends like she’s not falling for his tricks. ‘You did, did you?’

He hums some more, drops his head to her shoulder, and she laughs at the way he has to slouch to manage it. She wasn’t expecting him to stop by, so she’d not left her shoes on.

‘You think I can get time off work just like that?’ she asks.

‘I called,’ he says, and she rolls her shoulder at the feel of his jaw working against her bones.

He apologises, tilts his head and his breath fans hot against her neck. It’s the middle of summer and it’s too hot for this, but she shivers anyway, and his hands slip from her pockets, wriggle their way beneath the waistband to leave only her underwear between his hands and her ass. She silently thanks God she wore conservative underwear today.

‘You did?’ she asks, and trails blazing fingertips up his back, smiling at the shiver it gets her.

‘Uh-huh, told ‘em we were goin’ on holiday, that it was a surprise, so you couldn’t book ahead. Your boss was pretty cool about it.’

She suspects that Clint compensated her boss to allow him to steal her away for a week with the week’s wages.

‘I see,’ she says, ‘and where did you plan on us going?’

‘I got us a nice little place down in Jersey,’ he says, and she can feel him studying her. ‘Down in Seaside Heights.’

‘I suppose they owed you a favour?’ she hums, and Clint’s flush burns against her shoulder. He bites, gentle, and she laughs, kisses his ear in apology when he flinches. ‘Stop wearing the volume so high.’

‘Stop sounding so beautiful and I wouldn’t have to make you the only thing I can hear,’ he whips back, and her heart flops like a landed fish for a few seconds before she pinches his spine.

‘Smooth-talker,’ she accuses, and he kisses the spot he bit at, mouth warm and dry against her skin.

‘You need to pack,’ he tells her, ‘they expect us there before dinner.’

It’s not that long a drive, Laura supposes, as she debates what she needs to take. If Clint has his way, she won’t be wearing very many clothes, but she needs to pack _something_. He’s lounging on the couch with the dog when she’s done collecting her things, and she checks the dates on her food before draining the last of the milk and packing the perishables up to take with them.

‘A picnic?’ she suggests, and Clint’s thumb appears, thankfully still attached to his arm, in the air, pointed to the ceiling. ‘Are you falling asleep?’

The thumb turns down.

She goes to look; his eyes are shut, Lucky is tucked up safe between his legs, head on his belly and both of them look like they’re drifting off. She grabs his thumb and bends, and he twists his arm with the motion, wraps his hand around hers and drags it to his mouth.

‘I’m not asleep,’ he tells her, and his eyes catch the light _just so_ when he cracks them open to look up at her. He’s beautiful, she thinks, even with that unfortunate haircut.

‘Sure you’re not. Are you going to drive?’

‘Sure am,’ he nods.

 He stretches, and she appreciates the arch of his body for a second before he manages to get himself out from under his dog, and then he’s stretching again. The urge to tickle is there. She knows it’ll come back to bite her because he _hates_ being tickled, but she also knows that he can’t resist dragging her close enough to lift her off her feet because he knows it’ll stop her, and, well.

She tickles him.

His reaction is immediate; he makes a strangled noise that sounds somewhere between a moan, a curse and choking on his tongue, and his hands reach for her before she’s even really under his shirt, and in maybe five seconds, he’s got her up off the floor and her ankles hook behind his hips instinctively, knowing he’s more than strong enough to keep her safe.

‘You’re trouble,’ he teases, but he’s still kissing her.

‘You’d hate me if I wasn’t,’ she replies, and frees her hands from between them to tangle in his hair and keep him close.

It takes them a while to get out of the door. Her hair is a mess. He tells her she’s never looked better. She leaves it down despite the heat, hides the red cupid’s bows he’s bitten into her neck.

-0-0-0-

The drive to Seaside Heights is only a couple of hours, and they take it slow and steady, windows wound down all the way. Clint drives one-handed for the better part, free arm hanging out of the window. Laura puts her feet up on the dashboard, turns the radio up and watches Lucky through the wing mirror, head out of his window, tongue lolling.

‘He looks happy,’ she says, glances over at her boyfriend. ‘You look happy.’

His grin makes him look boyish in the best kind of way.

‘I am happy,’ he says, turns his head enough for her to know he’s looking at her behind those dark sunglasses of his. Hers are lighter, and he can probably see her eyes through them.

‘Good,’ she says, and reaches over to pat his thigh, hand retreating to her side of the cabin.

His eyes trail fire across her bare skin before he turns his attention back to the road. The presenter on the radio talks about the beautiful weather, plays a popular summer song. Laura asks if Clint knows this one; he’s still catching up on the media he missed during his time at the circus, and this is from the eighties. He does know it, so they spend the next three minutes singing along as loud as they can. Lucky howls with them. The car in the lane next to them looks at them like they’re mad.

‘I’m still surprised you like country,’ she laughs as the song fades away with a last guitar riff.

‘I’m from Iowa,’ he snorts, ‘you think I don’t? First song I remember’s _Rhinestone Cowboy_.’

‘ _Rhinestone Cowboy_ ,’ she echoes, and raises an eyebrow.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he tells her, but he’s still looking straight ahead. ‘I can feel that judgement.’

‘Glen Campbell?’ she crows, and considers taking her feet off the dash to prove a point.

But she’s comfortable, so she stays where she is.

He laughs, and reaches over to pinch her thigh. Squealing, she tries to draw away, but she’s got nowhere to go, and he pinched just enough that there’s going to be a red mark there for _hours_.

‘Clint,’ she protests, ‘people are going to think we’ve been getting frisky.’

‘They only have to look at your hair to know that,’ he replies, nose up.

 She eyes his neck. There’s plenty of space with his low collar for her to bite. His hair’s not long enough now to rough it up, so she’ll settle for the more obvious love bites. Besides, handsome man like him, he’s going to get eyes on him, especially when he gets that vest off. Best deflect all ideas to the contrary.

‘You’re mine you know,’ she tells him, because she likes him to know.

‘Mm,’ he replies. ‘I know. I’m very glad I am, too.’

She eyes him, and a flush creeps down his neck.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he says, and changes gear a little more jerkily than he usually does.

‘Like what?’ she asks, and very carefully eases her legs off the dashboard.

‘Like you’re going to drag me into the backseat and have your way with me.’

She tears her eyes away from him and looks at the view from her window. It’s dismal in comparison.

‘I wouldn’t,’ she says, idle, looking out over the city they’re driving through, ‘the dog’s in the backseat. I’d just do you here in the front seat. Maybe at the traffic light.’

He chokes on his spit and almost stalls the truck.

‘Don’t crash, honey,’ she teases, and gives him a smug little smile.

‘You’re going to get me killed,’ he tells her, but he’s grinning.

She reaches over to squeeze the hand white-knuckling the gear shift.

‘I love you,’ she says.

He smiles, helpless, and his shoulders relax.

‘I love you, too,’ he replies, and glances over at her. She doesn’t need to see his eyes to see how he’s looking at her.

-0-0-0-

Seaside Heights is hot, but she expected that. It’s hot and busy, and Lucky whines until Clint finds a lead from under the passenger seat to clip onto his collar. It’s the first time Laura’s ever seen him wear a lead, and Clint hands it to her.

‘He won’t pull,’ he says as he helps Lucky down from the truck (with a hand on his hindquarters and pushing) before getting the bags out. ‘It’s mostly a precaution. He just doesn’t like busy streets like this.’

‘He’s fine in New York,’ Laura says.

Clint shrugs once, hauls his duffel over his shoulder and shifts his grip on Laura’s bag. ‘He’s not familiar with the streets here. In New York, he knows where the safe spots are if we get separated. He doesn’t know them here.’

Laura shifts her grip on the lead, looping the (purple, of course) rope around her wrist and glancing up at him.

‘Do _you_ know these streets?’

‘I know what street the hotel’s on?’ he offers, and smiles his most charming smile.

‘I’m going to trip you on the dog’ lead,’ she tells him.

He looks at her like he doesn’t believe her, and tells her to follow him on in. The hotel is airy, a pretty pale blue and cream. It’s nice, very seaside-appropriate, and Laura tells Lucky to sit while Clint approaches the desk.

‘Mister Barton!’ the girl there cries. ‘Welcome back!’

‘Hannah, hey, you’ve grown at least two inches.’

‘Two and a half!’

Clint glances over his shoulder at Laura, who’s pushing her sunglasses up and crouching to fuss the dog. She glances up when she feels his eyes on her, and smiles. The girl behind the desk, fifteen or so, daughter of the owners, working over the summer holidays like she always does, gapes a little, her gaze turning up to Clint.

‘Two and a half,’ he says, as though it’s blowing his mind. ‘Time flies, eh? Don’t suppose our room’s ready?’

‘It’s – it’s ready, yeah, yeah, hold on.’

She turns to get the key. ‘She’s _gorgeous_ ,’ she breathes as she presses the key into his hand.

‘I know,’ he whispers back, before he bursts out laughing. ‘Honey, you’ve got a fan.’

‘I’d kill for a fan,’ she says, and then looks up at the red-faced receptionist. ‘Oh! Oh, goodness. I’m flattered. Thank you, that means a lot coming from someone as pretty as you.’

Hannah’s face looks like it’s about to melt off, so Clint signs the book and retreats, still laughing.

‘Tell your dad I’m here, alright?’ her asks as he nudges Laura towards the stairs with a foot, ‘I wanna make sure everything’s still good.’

Hannah nods, and promises to tell him when he gets back from his meeting at the bank.

With that Clint and Laura disappear upstairs.

‘What did you do here?’ she asks, and Clint fishes for the words for a moment.

‘There was this string of robberies?’ he asks, like she’d have heard about it.

Laura reminds him that she barely hears about what goes on in the next block, never mind the next state.

‘Well, a bunch of hotels here were getting robbed, and I was here on a mission for something else. Smuggling of weapons, I think. Some black market deal S.H.I.E.L.D. were getting antsy about. So I’m there dealing with all that, and then out of nowhere, this gang of – they were kids, really, real young, couldn’t be twenty-one, no way – these boys come along, and they’re laughing and joking. Bragging about last night and this hit they made. You know me, I’m curious, so I follow along, listen in. Bet you’re glad I can turn the volume as high as I can now, eh? Anyway, they’re talking about robbing this hotel, and it had come up during my investigation, like maybe these robberies were going on to distract from what was going on at the harbour, but they were totally separate. So I’ve got some spare time, and I keep following them to their next hit; this place. We have a bit of a scuffle. Just a little one.’

Laura hums. ‘What did you break?’

‘That  pretty window at the front, the one with the blue glass on the bottom like the waves? That was just plain glass originally. I threw one of the robbers through it. Steve – Hannah’s dad – he comes down hollering and waving a baseball bat and I’ve got one of the kids in a headlock – I know, I know, but he kept trying to bite me – and the others are on the floor making baby noises. I tell him what was going on, and I paid for the window to get replaced, ‘cause that’s what you do, and he had the kids arrested.’

‘You’re awful,’ she tells him, but stops him outside the room he pauses at to drag him down to kiss him. ‘I love you, you’re wonderful.’

‘That’s why I had those scrapes on my back,’ he mumbles against her mouth. ‘The ones you were real worried about. ‘Cause I went through the window.’

‘What a hero,’ she teases. ‘Come on, hero, show me where we’re staying.’

Lucky immediately goes to the couch once the door’s open, and Clint assures his worried girlfriend that he’d cleared it with the hotel, Lucky’s allowed to go on the couch, so long as Clint gets some lint rollers to help get the fur off the upholstery.

‘How do you keep doing this?’ Laura asks, flopping onto the bed and spreading out. ‘Being so charmingly nice that you get us into these nice places?’

‘I don’t mean to,’ Clint says, ‘I’m just. Being me.’

‘I know, honey,’ she says, and reaches for him, humming happily when he goes and lets her tug him onto the bed. ‘I love that you’re so nice. I do. Not just because we get to go to posh restaurants without breaking your bank account. You do good things, and that’s really nice.’

Clint nods, settles on his side watching her for a minute.

‘I do most of it because of you, you know,’ he murmurs eventually. ‘Not because of the discounts, though they’re pretty nice. Just because of you. You make me better. Do better.’

She smiles. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I feel better around you. Probably because I’m so hopelessly in love with you.’

Laughing, she rolls over, pressing close to him, and stops him saying anything more.


End file.
